


Baker Street Christmas Vignettes

by Jenny_Starseed



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas, Ficlets, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:50:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenny_Starseed/pseuds/Jenny_Starseed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Christmas ficlets.  How do Sherlock, Mycroft, John and Lestrade celebrate the holidays.  Four vignettes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baking at Baker Street

**Author's Note:**

> None of these characters are mine. Unbeta-ed and Unbrit-picked. All mistakes about how Brits celebrate Christmas are mine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odd, John had never seen Sherlock put away any foodstuffs at 221B Baker Street. Sherlock begins his Holiday gift baking.

It was December first and John came home to find Sherlock surrounded by pounds of butter, little containers of coloured sugar, rolls of parchment paper, icing bags and a one kilogram bag of white flour on the counter. This was a surprise, Sherlock never does the shopping.

“Sherlock, what is all of this? It’s not one of your experiments, is it?”

“You could say it’s an extension of one of my earliest experiments with Chemistry. Baking is a precise science that I’ve been experimenting with since I was eleven. I am testing my skills against this so-called Cookie bible.” replied Sherlock. He held out a large book called The Christmas Cookie Bible with a look of distaste. “It’s a precise science with its exacting amounts, the tricky flour to fat ratio with the added factor of heat makes it challenging and exciting. I’m testing my own recipes against this discount book monstrosity.”

John noticed the collection of fancy tins, bags and ribbons on the table. “You’re going to be gifting these biscuits?”

“Yes. I’m going to deduce people’s favourite biscuits and the best way to give it to them with as little fuss as possible.”

“You mean give them out in a way that gives you the least discomfort with people’s unexpected gratitude as possible?”

“You know me too well, John.”


	2. Spiced Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is how John copes with the holidays.

Find kettle. Fill with water. Plug it in. Turn it on. Wait fifteen minutes.

Fetch tea from cupboard.

Find a tea cup. Good, no mould in his favourite mug.

Pull out the Spiced Tea bag. Put it in tea cup.

Wait for water in kettle to stop boiling.

Unplug the kettle.

Pour water over tea bag and watch it steep.

Repeat fourteen times until Christmas Day. Until Sherlock has perfected his Christmas Pudding masterpiece for mummy.

Dear God.

Just-because-Sherlock-has-invaded-every-space-in-the-kitchen-with-his-infuriating-cooking-experiments-doesn’t-mean-John-can’t-have-his-heavenly-over-priced-spiced-tea-on-this-side-of-the-crowded-counter-why-can’t-I-sit-at-the-table-without-all-those-measuring-cups-baking-pans-powdered-cinnemon-brandy-suet-why-on-earth-does-he-need-to-hang-ten-christmas-puddings-from-the-ceiling-above-the-table-and-why-is-he-making-more-and......it’s-MY-KITCHEN-TOO-DAMNIT-SHERLOCK! BLOODY INFURIATING SOD OF A FLAT MATE.

Deep breath.

Take a sip.

Tea cures everything.

Take another sip.

Spiced Tea especially so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally supposed to be in a series of fics about Sherlock’s manic Christmas baking. But I scrapped that idea once I found that Brits don’t exchange baked food gifts. So, amended to just have Sherlock make the Christmas Pudding for Mummy’s Christmas Dinner.


	3. Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock sends Mycroft a gift hamper of chocolates. Mycroft knows sabotage when he sees it.

Sherlock sent Mycroft a hamper of chocolates. From Thorntons. His favourite chocolate maker. It was called the “Really Love Chocolate Hamper.” The name was simultaneously a taunt and an accurate assessment of how Mycroft felt about the hamper.

This was unfair. Mycroft refused to gain a stone from holiday chocolate consumption. Twenty varieties of Chocolate. Toffees. Truffles. A multitude of chocolate covered raisins, peanuts, and his favourite! Chunky Choc Chip Choccies. Sherlock will go to hell for this.

He picked apart the hamper. He was deciding what to give his assistants and clerks, and what to keep for himself. OOH! There was a new flavour of truffles, infused with coconut and raspberry bits. It had been so long since he had a proper chocolate truffle, the smooth chocolate, its milky texture...NO! He must be disciplined. He must think of the bathroom scale, the needle inching upwards and his brother’s taunts and teases. He must think of his younger brother’s knowing smug half smile at mummy’s Christmas dinner, that same smile that caused Mycroft to give Sherlock a black eye when Sherlock was eleven. Mummy never forgot that. No, that can’t happen again.

“Anthea!”

His PA walked into the foyer, what a slender figure she has...how do people do it?

“Yes sir?”

“I trust you to guard this,” Mycroft commanded stiffly. He handed her the large hamper of chocolates, with the various packets of sweets hastily placed in the hamper.

Anthea looks puzzled. “Guard it, sir?”

“Yes. I want you to keep this in my kitchen safe, here’s the key. Every morning, put 30 grams of chocolate on this plate, on the right hand side of my desk.” instructed Mycroft. He handed her a key and a small crystal plate to put the chocolate on. “Measure it out exactly with the kitchen scale beside the safe. Remember, exactly 30 grams a day.”

“Understood,” replied Anthea. She took the hamper and keys from Mycroft and trotted away with the love of Mycroft’s life.


	4. Mulled Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scene from the Scotland Yard Christmas Party.

Lestrade sat at the corner of the room with a glass of mulled wine by his elbow. The Scotland Yard employee Christmas party was in full swing. There was loud chatter, drunken dancing to bad holiday music and people clustering over the cheap beer, crisps, biscuits and a lonely vegetable and dip tray.

Sally Donovan spotted him in the corner and approached him with a wry expression on her face.

“Haven’t got the memo?”she asked, handing Lestrade a glass of water. “No maudlin drunks at the Christmas party, only foolish drunks allowed. Take a look at Sherlock.”

Lestrade took a sip of the water and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Sherlock doing an awkward dance that would make a schizophrenic robot proud. Lestrade knew exactly who provided the 15 year old bottle of Glenfiddich to the office party; despite it being anonymously delivered in a velvet box every year with an elegant card that said “For your amusement, serve at the Scotland Yard Christmas party at exactly 7:05pm.”

“I’m not being maudlin, Sally,” corrected Lestrade. “I’m honestly enjoying myself. My father used to sit by the corner, watching our festivities. He would pour the mulled wine in my cup, giving me just enough to taste and decide it was disgusting before asking for hot chocolate. As a lad, it was the only time of year that we were allowed to have something alcoholic without getting in trouble....honestly, I forgot the point of that story...except that well, I never understood why he sat so quietly in the corner, away from the food, presents and friends until I started doing it myself at these silly Christmas parties. It’s very nice to just watch people being happy from the sidelines.”

“Sir, you’ve had too much,” replied Sally with a wry smile. “You’re now a sentimental drunk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally scrapped because I centered the fic around eggnog, until I found out Brits generally don’t drink Eggnog. Too bad, because I liked that fic a lot, but I try my best to have my fics be as plausibly British as possible. I’m not a Brit, so if you see any mistakes, politely let me know.


End file.
